Chapter 122

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Protagonist:

Lin En

Lena

After the Cold Soldiers entered the battlefield, the situation on the Ice Plains underwent a fundamental reversal.

This reversal had no gradual transition; it was a direct change that completely rewrote the war pattern between the Wildmen and the Green Skins.

In the past, Wildmen cavalry hunted Green Skins, every sortie was licking blood on the blade's edge, with heavy casualties.

Before hunting, elite scouts had to be dispatched to precisely reconnoiter the Green Skins' numbers, equipment, and marching routes.

After reconnaissance ended, they also had to repeatedly probe the Green Skins' combat strength, dispatching squads to harass and lure the enemy, to understand their fighting style.

Then came luring the enemy deep in, using terrain and traps to barely kill and wound the enemy.

Even with meticulous plans, the Wildmen cavalry, lacking heavy firepower and high-damage weapons, still had to pay a heavy price during guerrilla harassment.

Ten thousand Wildmen cavalry daring to attack two thousand Green Skins was already commendable courage.

But now, everything had become incredibly simple.

The Wildmen no longer needed to risk reconnaissance or carefully set ambushes, nor did they need to exchange their companions' blood for battle opportunities.

They only needed to find a squad of Green Skins, wait for the Frost Priest to summon Cold Soldiers.

Throughout, the Wildmen standing on high ground only needed to do one thing: watch.

But no matter how many times they watched, there was only a shock that penetrated to the marrow.

The Green Skins that once required great sacrifice to barely defeat were now not worth a single blow before the Cold Soldiers.

This easily won victory both freed them from despair and made them feel something strange.

A young Wildman warrior of sixteen or seventeen, witnessing Cold Soldiers in combat for the first time, was filled with curiosity.

After the battle ended, he couldn't help but descend from the high ground and intercept a Bone Claw Cold Soldier that was recovering its companions' remains.

That Cold Soldier's left forelimb bone claw had disappeared in combat, and it was mechanically dragging a damaged Cold Soldier's remains, its movements stiff.

The young warrior crouched down and asked softly: "Do... do you have a name?"

The Cold Soldier had no reaction at all, not even lifting its head to look at him.

It just mechanically dragged the remains, walking straight toward the Ice Lotus direction, finally disappearing into the Ice Lotus, continuing to complete the recovery mission.

Later, the young warrior discovered that all Cold Soldiers were exactly the same.

They would strictly obey the Frost Priest's commands, cooperate with Wildmen cavalry in battle, and recover remains after battles ended.

But they would never respond to any form of communication, whether language, gestures, or gazes.

They had no emotions, no self-awareness, no joy anger sorrow joy, only two functions: killing and executing commands.

Battle, recovery, dying, rebirth—that was their entire life trajectory.

This made the Wildmen both revere and feel uneasy.

Cold Soldiers were more loyal than the most loyal hunting hounds, more ferocious than the most savage beasts, but what exactly were they?

Tools? Weapons? Or some kind of unknown creature without a soul?

No one could give an answer; this doubt surrounded every Wildman's heart.

Just as the Wildmen felt reverence and unease, Sorin stood on a more distant peak, taking all of this in.

She wore the standard PDF uniform issued by the Vanguard Army, her silver hair hidden inside a black helmet, and faint bruises from Lin En choking her neck a few days ago still remained on her neck.

Holding a telescope in her hand, her garnet-colored eyes looked through the lens at the Cold Soldiers below, her expression solemn.

Tyranids.

She silently recited in her heart.

The Cold Soldiers' physiological structure, the Biological Cannons' energy flow, carapace texture, even behavioral habits.

All completely matched the Tyranid data she had studied countless times in the Tribunal archives, without any deviation.

But in her view, this was simply impossible.

Tyranids were the most pure destructive force in the universe, unconscious biological weapons that devoured everything.

They would not coexist with any species, nor would they obey commands from non-Tyranids; wherever they went, they would only leave destruction and desolation.

But everything before her eyes fiercely overturned her cognition.

The Cold Soldiers did not attack the Wildmen; instead, they fought side by side with the Wildmen, jointly cleaning up the Green Skins.

Sorin's thoughts ran quickly, a series of images surfacing in her mind.

The Tearing Worm always accompanying Lin En on his shoulder, the "Frost Dragon" phantom during the confrontation with the Wildmen leader.

The powerful Spirit Energy Barrier outside Double Peak Mountain that kept her out and could not be broken through.

Fragment by fragment pieced together, a mad and heretical thought formed in her mind.

The Frost Dragon was Tyranids, Cold Soldiers were Tyranids, all existences revered by Wildmen as "Divine Warriors" were Tyranids.

And Lin En, this man certified by the State Religion as "Emperor's Chosen," might have already established some connection with the Hive Mind.

This thought violated all Imperial creeds, blasphemed the faith she had upheld all her life, and made her instinctively want to negate herself.

But she did not; years of Inquisitor career had made her develop the habit of calmly seeking proof.

She put away the telescope, turned and walked toward the Vanguard Army Command Post, her gaze firm.

She wanted to figure this out, not for judgment, unrelated to faith and duties, simply wanting to know the truth.

What kind of person was Lin En, and what exactly was his connection with these Tyranids.

Time rewound to two weeks ago, deep in the Ice Plains thirty kilometers outside the Forbidden Wall, wind and snow raged.

A scarred green skin Tech Boss stumbled through the snow, his body covered in wounds.

Green blood froze on his body, dragging behind him the mangled remains of a destroyed Killing Iron Can, his steps unsteady, ready to collapse at any moment.

He was called Elko, the most capable Tech Boss beside Shan Pang Guga, and the one who had once advised Guga.

He did not know how long he had run, nor where he was, only that he had to run desperately.

Escape that battlefield that terrified him, escape the clutches of that purple-eyed human.

Covered in wounds, his stamina exhausted, every step brought Green Skin Pain, but he did not give up.

Alive, there was Possibly; he would regroup the green skins, defeat that purple-eyed human, and become the new warboss!

Breuvice Orc Main Base, located at the green skin giant stone landing site in the deepest part of the Ice Plains.

Here gathered the last organized green skin forces on this Planet, the last foundation of the green skins on the Ice Plains.

But Shan Pang Guga's death had plunged Here into typical Green Skin Life chaos.

Without a unified Tribal Chief, all green skin Big Guys wanted to seize control, none submitting to the other, fighting and brawling daily in the Camp, mutually slaughtering.

Occasionally someone organized a small-scale attack, attempting to raid Wildmen or the Vanguard Army.

But they would be interrupted by internal strife halfway through, finally parting unhappily, even killing each other.

When Elko dragged his mangled body back to the Camp, what greeted him was not his Fellow's concern, but the mockery and provocation of several green skin Big Guys.

"Yo, Guga's little lackey is still Alive?"

A green skin Big Guy nearly Three Meters tall stood with hands on his Waist, his Tone contemptuous.

"Tech Boss doesn't fight, only knows to bang iron, roll back to your nest, don't be an eyesore here!"

Other green skins joined in the jeering, their eyes full of Mockery.

Elko did not retort, nor was he angry; he just kept his head down, silently passing through the jeering green skins, walking to the open space at the center of the Camp.

He set down the mangled remains of the Killing Iron Can behind him and began to busy himself.

He collected all usable scrap iron and mechanical parts in the Camp, ignoring the mockery and disturbance of the surrounding green skins, single-mindedly assembling something.

In Three Days, Elko did not rest, did not eat, always busy at the center of the Camp.

The scrap iron piled beside him grew fewer and fewer, a huge mecha prototype gradually appearing.

On the evening of the third day, Elko stood atop a huge mecha.